


Falling in Love at 200 mph

by octobersymphony



Category: Formula 1 RPF
Genre: F/M, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-08-06
Updated: 2012-08-06
Packaged: 2017-11-11 13:41:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,845
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/479139
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/octobersymphony/pseuds/octobersymphony
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Four times Jenson Button fell in love despite his best intentions, and one time he (almost) didn't.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Falling in Love at 200 mph

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the f1slash Summer Slash challenge 2008.

_I. Ralf_

Years later, you will look at some of the pictures the photographers took of you during the 2000 season, at the wide-eyed, carefree boy staring back at you, and you'll wonder who the hell that guy was and what happened to him.

It's all a big adventure to you, those first couple of months when everything seems possible. The media at home hails you as the future champion, girls who used to ignore you suddenly smile at you and invite you for drinks, and your team-mate… God, your team-mate! 

You've been driving in the lower Formulae for long enough to know what's going on behind closed doors in some motor homes, but you never understood why anyone would want to mess around with a fellow driver when the paddock was filled with cute chicks who'd follow anyone home as long as they were dressed in racing overalls. That was before you met Ralf, with his stupid smile and his stupid dimples and his stupid blue eyes. Ralf, who grinned and held out his hand for you to shake and greeted you with, "Welcome to the madhouse."

It takes half a day before you get drunk together, a week before you're friends, and not even a month before he first kisses you, outside the motor home in the deserted paddock after a long day of testing. It's stupid and reckless, and yet the most surprising thing about it is that it hardly surprises you at all. In a way, you've seen this coming ever since your first encounter.

You kiss him back, tentative at first but with growing intensity, teeth scraping his lips and your hand tangling in his hair. When you break apart to catch your breath, he treats you with one of his most brilliant smiles. 

By the time spring turns into summer, you're already head over heels in love with him, and you think it'll last forever.

It doesn't, of course.

They send you off to Benetton to make way for Montoya (or maybe to stifle the affair between two high-profile racing drivers before it hits the press – in your most cynical moments, you think that's all your enforced change of team was ever about), while Ralf remains at Williams to become the team's golden boy. Suddenly, it's not quite as convenient anymore to sneak off for a moment of privacy.

It shouldn't have stopped you or him, not if your relationship was really that important to you. But you were young and stupid, and it was all too easy to grow apart.

 

_II. Jacques_

There's a public feud in the media and icy silences in the motor home. Of all your team-mates, there has never been one you didn't get on with before, and the worst thing is that you don't have a clue just how the situation escalated. The only thing you do know is that it's not your fault, because you weren't the one who's been rubbishing Jacques even before your first test together.

And then there's Monaco. You don't remember much about the crash, afterwards, just that you woke up in your hospital room with Jacques occupying the chair at your bedside. 

The mere fact that he came to see you is startling enough, but it's the expression on his face that makes you wonder whether any of this is real or if they just gave you the good drugs and you're hallucinating. Because Jacques is looking guilty and unhappy and _worried_. You don't know what to make of that, and trying to figure it out makes your head even ache more than it does already.

"Hey." You're hardly able to focus; your voice is raspy and the smile you offer him is weak. He doesn't return it, his expression losing nothing of its oddly intense, serious look. Just when you're coming to the conclusion that he's probably angry with you, for some reason or the other, he speaks. 

"Don't ever do something like that again," he tells you, and you're just about to point out that you didn't exactly crash the car on purpose and ask what the hell his problem is, when he reaches out and takes your hand. Your gaze follows his down to where his fingers loosely wrap around yours. Suddenly, it all falls into place. _Oh!_

The joke how he was probably upset that the crash didn't quite make him get rid of you dies on your lips. 

"I'll try my best," you say instead, your voice unsteady for more than one reason now.

You give his hand a little squeeze.

 

_III. David_

Partying with David has the habit of getting... out of hand. David knows that. You know that. Hell, everyone knows it. In the light of that, a joint vacation with him and both your fiancées might not have been the best idea either of you ever had.

While Simone and Louise are off somewhere doing girl-stuff, David drags you into the casino where you proceed to lose hideous amounts of money, until your luck turns when you meet Leticia. You declare her your good luck charm, but it's David who invites her to join you for a drink afterwards, and when the three of you stumble into a hotel room at three in the morning, you're so drunk you can hardly stand and collapse in a heap on the bed.

Drunk threesomes, it turns out, are not all they're cracked up to be. 

By the time you won the battle against the buttons of your shirt, Leticia is out like a light and David can't (or maybe won't) stop laughing. The sound makes your head throb painfully, so you shut him up with a sloppy kiss. He pushes you back and looks at you with a frown, and you already brace yourself for the impact of his first in your face.

Instead, you find yourself flat on your back with him on top of you and his lips back on yours, and fortunately, his shirt comes off a lot easier than yours. In fact, all of it is a lot easier than it should be, considering that he's straight, and your best friend, and that you're both going to be married soon.

Your memories of what exactly happened that night are fuzzy, though your imagination is vivid enough to fill up the gaps your inebriation left you with. 

When you awake, it's almost noon. You're draped half across David, who's still dead to the world. The sheets are stuck to your skin, your face itches with beard burn and your head feels two sizes too big.

Leticia is gone, and you can't work out whether or not that's a good thing, because Louise is standing in the doorway looking at you with an expression you don't dare to read.

 

_IV. Dannii_

It's probably a breach of etiquette to sleep with your ex-boyfriend's ex-girlfriend. But Dannii looks radiant at Jacques' wedding and all you want to do is kiss her and take her home with you.

So you do. And for some reason you can't figure out (she's not _that_ drunk), she lets you.

You make love to her with the lights out but the curtains wide open, and you don't think you've ever seen anything as beautiful as her body curving around yours in the moonlight. You touch her with something akin to reverence and her kisses taste of devotion. Neither of you sleep that night, lying in each other's embrace and watching the darkness fade and the sunlight ease into the room. 

There's breakfast in bed, playful fighting over the morning paper, and laughter filling the space between you. Your goodbye kiss is sweet and chaste, and even though you never discuss it, both of you know that when you next meet, it will be as friends and that neither of you will ever mention last night again. 

You fall a little in love with her then, because she understands. And so do you.

Months later, when Jacques comes to visit the paddock and tells you he'll punch Hamilton in the nose if he makes a move on Dannii, you inwardly wince. Or maybe not just inwardly, because Jacques gives you a curious look and then starts laughing. 

"Relax, man, I know about you and Dannii. I'm not going to give you any crap about it. Can't say I wasn't glad it didn't work out, though. She's too good for you."

And wow, that stings. The hurt must be written all over your face – or maybe Jacques is simply too good at reading you – because his smile turns a fraction warmer.

"No offence. She's too good for _anyone_ , you know."

The sad thing is, you agree.

 

_V. Rubens_

"This year sucks just as badly as the last one," you tell Rubens after the fifth race of the season you fail to finish.

He pokes you in the chest. "Speak for yourself, Mr. Negativity. I was on the podium."

When you throw one of your racing gloves at him, he jumps out of the way and laughs.

You never expected the two of you to get on so well. He was supposed to be the boring old guy approaching retirement while you'd be the star driver coming home with podiums and wins. It's not exactly how it worked out, and the amazing thing is how close you two have become in all those months when it's been a struggle to even finish a race within the top ten. He's always the one cheering you up when you get frustrated, knowing just when it's okay to play pranks on you and when you need a pep talk and someone to simply commiserate with.

Despite yourself, you like him, and you like the team with all the crazy people. You don't want to leave, even if – as far as the performance of the car is concerned – every light at the end of the tunnel has turned out to be an oncoming train leaving you with disappointment and more bad race results.

You close your eyes and allow your body to slump, hoping that when you look up again, the car will miraculously have improved and you won't have to decide between a team you feel comfortable with and the chance to win races. Instead, you feel a pair of hands on your shoulders, making you jump in surprise.

"Easy," Rubens says behind you, and you relax, letting him try to ease some of the tension between your shoulders.

It would be altogether too easy to take this a step further, lean in a little closer, reach out and still his hands with your own. But you've had your fair share of paddock romances, and you're getting a little too old for this particular roller-coaster ride. Maybe it's time to look elsewhere, to find someone to settle down with.

Or maybe, you think, when Rubens sits down beside you and slings an arm around your shoulder, telling you he'll get you drunk so you'll stop moping around... maybe not just yet.

 

End.


End file.
